Only For So Long
by Dani Jones
Summary: Only for so long can Grìma control himself from taking Éowyn by force...at last, he's finally snapped. Spontaneous oneshot; do not read if you're opposed to violence or mature content!


**Hello to my favorite people! I've never written a Lord of the Rings fic before, but last night, I had the **_**coolest**_** dream, and I'm just writing what I remember. There's no real plot behind this, so I would appreciate it if I was not criticized for weak plotting. (It has happened…) Fill in the holes yourself, that's what makes it so fun! Rated M for a scene of sexual nature. (No specifics! It'll ruin it!) Enjoy!**

Only for a short time could he see her with her golden flowing hair and pale skin before wanting to approach and touch. She didn't realize how much control it took to not force her to him when she passed him in the halls of Meduseld. If only she knew how close he'd come to taking her away from Rohan, just to be with her.

But she would never know.

She would never know of the dreams that tormented him every night, or the thoughts that attacked his mind during the day. She didn't know how many times he'd considered persuading Théoden King to let him take her in marriage, just so she would be with him. But he knew this would torture her, and he'd stopped himself from doing so. _A worm can only take so much…_

A mad spell? Or enough courage mustered, he could not tell. But all that he knew is that he wanted Éowyn, and he wanted her _now. _Lying awake in his study, he searched for a reason. A reason to just tell Théoden King that Éowyn must marry him…that somehow it was imperative…but then again, with that ever watchful brother of hers, Éomer, was around, there was no chance of him even being able to court her. Even with the King's permission.

So he waited…

Eventually, Éomer was banished from Rohan, as all was according to plan, and the King was beyond salvaging; leaving Éowyn trapped in a corner, and Grìma ready to strike. _She will love me…_

He waited for the day when she would be beyond despair; beyond seeking anybody for help. Then he would extend a hand, and woo her to the safety of his arms. And when the shell of the former King gave way to death, she would rule Rohan with him at her side.

_"I don't want to rule…I'm not ready to defend the people of Rohan against a looming threat." Éowyn whispered. _

_"But I would be here to counsel you, my lady. Do not be afraid of authority because of the state of your uncle." Grìma answered soothingly. She shifted uncomfortable in the chair she sat, and looked to the floor. Grìma lifted her chin with his fingers tenderly, looking into her moist eyes. She diverted her eyes from the floor to his icy blue eyes. His eyes froze her soul…_

_Grìma enjoyed these late-night talks that they had, mostly because of her decision-impaired mind, and because he could prove to her how alike they really were. How they were haunted by the same fears…the same nightmares…_

_Carefully, he leaned in to kiss her. He watched her intently for her reaction, up until the moment their lips met. She did not pull away, but she did not return the kiss either. He pulled away after a few short seconds, surveying her face for a hint of emotion. _

_"Grìma…" she muttered. She laid her head onto his shoulder, feeling the fur of his cloak scratch her cheek._

_"Éowyn…"_

_Oh, Éowyn…_

That encounter, unfortunately did not last. More sleepless nights passed by…more fantasies and dreams were created in his mind, until one day, he could not wait any longer…

Éowyn wandered around Meduseld whenever she became idle, and she especially was drawn to the former study. Grìma could not understand why she would choose as bleak of a place, but she enjoyed it because of the lack of confusion, the silence, and the solemnity of the room. She always sat in the same chair, at the same side of the table. She always sat with her back to the door, in the wooden chair draped with a thin fur blanket. She always stared at the wall, sometimes she would bring a book, and sometimes, she would sing.

Grìma loved it when she sang. It was sweet, with a melancholy edge. When she would conclude, the ring was the same as when a helmet is dropped in a silent room, and the ring of the metal slowly dissipates.

_Today, she would be his…_

Today, she was playing with a flower. Smoothing the petals back and forth, pausing only to run her fingers up and down the stem. She wasn't looking at the rose, however, but at the wall opposite her. Staring into nothingness was what she did often. Grìma wandered slowly and silently into the room, feeling his heart flutter every time she stroked one of the petals. He approached until he was standing directly over her shoulder.

Not sure on what to do, he decided to just watch her. She stroked the stem a twice before catching her finger on the single thorn at the top. She let out a gasp of surprise, and held her finger aloft. She searched around the empty room for something to clean the blood. Grìma seized his chance. Taking out his cloth, he walked around her, and took her hand softly. She spun to whoever touched her wrist. Her hand stiffened, and her eyes widened when she saw Grìma's face. He did not look at her, for he could already imagine what the look on her face was like. She attempted to jerk away from his hold, but he tightened his hold, and lowered the filthy cloth to her damaged finger.

"My lady mustn't struggle, or else her precious blood will ruin her beautiful dress."

She noted the way he hung on the word, 'blood.' She stopped resisting as he dabbed her finger lightly with his cloth. She winced once, and he lifted the cloth off quickly. He waited until she relaxed her hand before finishing his work. He finished wiping off the blood, and lifted her finger to kiss it. His lips had barely touched her cold fingers before she pulled it away.

"Thank you, Grìma. I'll be on my way." She braced her arms to get onto her feet. He placed a forceful hand on her arm.

"My lady must listen to my counsel…I am a master healer after all. Your finger might be exposed to dangerous infection. Let me ensure that you will be safe." He took her arm with both of his hands. She pulled it away with more force than before.

"Let me go, snake!" She shrieked. Grìma's heart jolted. _Snake…_

"My lady does not approve of my methods?" He said, still staring at the spot that she still sat, eventually looking slowly at her.

"I do not wish that you touch me." she replied with a small dosage of venom. He closed his eyes impatiently, and then stood to level with her. He walked towards her, and she followed him intently with her gaze. He began to circle her, examining every curvature of her body…every design of her dress…

"My lady has grown beautiful, yet she does not seek to expand her futures," He said in a low tone. She turned her head to look into his eyes.

"I would not give myself what I cannot give this land." She replied.

"You would if you knew how..." he stopped circling her, and stood directly behind her."Satisfying it would be." He leaned forward to rub her hair on his face. She stiffened at the movement.

"You would be wise not to do this. Gamling and Hàma would be in here in an instant if I screamed for help, and besides, they would not need a reason to do you justice."

"Surely my lady does not think of me that poorly," She paused, letting the muscles in her neck relax before responding.

"I wish I could think of you better."

"Oh, but you can my lady!" He placed a hand on her shoulder, flexing his fingers to hold her in place.

She rolled her shoulders in an attempt to free his grasp. "Let me go!"

Anger flashed within Grìma. He squeezed her shoulder harder.

"Grìma-!" She gasped.

With his hand anchored on her shoulder, he spun her around, and planted a kiss on her lips. She resisted, pushing with her hands on his chest, and moving her head, trying to break his lips from hers.

_Stop trying._ He thought. _You know it is useless…_From new found anger and determination, he pushing harder into the kiss. She began to squeal through his kiss, and losing his sudden urge, he allowed himself to release from her. She stumbled backwards onto the table, panting. Something in him withered…he backed away in sudden fear of what he had done.

"Leave this hall, Grìma! I never want to see you or your leechcraft again!"

His anger churned again, and this time, his feet moved without his permission. He was beginning to charge towards Éowyn. She screamed in fear.

"GAMLING! H-!"

He grabbed her by her shoulders and forced her onto her back on the table; cutting her off. She began kicking her feet, and writhing.

"Cease! This will be easy if you stop fighting!" someone hissed. The words were unrecognizable. The words, to Grìma's horror…had come from himself.

_No…no I have to stop…I can't do this!_ His mind screamed. But his hands did not let up. His left hand moved to her throat, pinning her to the table, and cutting off her oxygen supply. With his other hand, he began to explore her body. He felt the soft cloth that lay beneath his hand, feeling every curve and movement of her muscles. Something of him screamed for him to stop, and another part wanted more.

She began making horrible noises, gagging, coughing, and choking. He loosened his hand on her throat for a moment, and she inhaled graciously, but he thrust it back down when she tried to lift her head. Continuing to feel around, he touched the contour of one of her breasts. She abruptly stopped gasping, and began to moan. The moan fueled his desire, driving him to dangerous lengths. He cupped her breasts, and then slithered his hand down to feel her stomach. She began to kick her legs as he felt lower and lower.

_Yes…_

She surprised him with her sheer strength. He had trouble keeping her body on the table. She choked and gasped until he let her take another breath. Suddenly, to his horror, her kicking got weaker, and her gasping slower. He released her throat, but she did not inhale.

He felt his heart skip two beats.

Then it restarted to a speed faster than anything he'd ever felt in his life. He couldn't tell how long he'd held off her oxygen, but obviously, it was too long.

_I don't want her dead...no...please no..._

"No…Éowyn, _NO!_" he screamed at the top of his lungs. Running to her head, he tilted her chin upwards, and pushed on her throat, hoping that she'd rouse, and begin breathing again. He pushed again, and she did nothing.

The door to the study burst open, and Hàma, Gamling, and a few more of the guards ran into the room. The sound of shouting and clanging armor filled the hall.

"GET AWAY FROM HER!" Gamling shouted. The three accompanying guards grabbed Grìma, and struck him in the stomach, causing him to double over.

"_No! Éowyn! Save her! I can save her_!" he shrieked.

Hàma pushed on her shoulders, and then pushed on her stomach.

"What are you doing?" Grìma shouted. Hàma ignored him.

The guards began to force him from the hall; he flailed, and squirmed even after he was out of the room.

"Éowyn! _Éowyn!" _He let himself go limp as the guards took him farther and farther away from her. As his feet dragged on the ground, he could only hear the words in his head...

_Éowyn…oh, my Éowyn…_


End file.
